A Bad Case of Loving You
by janiejanine
Summary: Hawke is tired of waiting for Anders to make a She baits him by requesting a "checkup" from the good


There were a lot of rules to surviving life in Lowtown. Never make eye contact with the templars; never go up against a dwarf when death was on the line; and above all, never eat anything you bought from a stall. Lowtown's street food had laid out more people than the Carta. Luckily for the vendors, however, Karen Hawke laughed in the face of danger.

"Oooh, kebabs!" said Hawke, making a beeline for a stall selling something grey on a stick.

Isabela made a face. "Tell me you aren't going to eat that."

"I like lamb."

"Is this some roundabout excuse to get Anders to lay his hands on you?"

"Of course not!" Hawke smirked. "If I was that desperate, I wouldn't do food poisoning. I'd find a sexier ailment."

"Then why don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're obviously dying for Sparklefingers to show you his staff. Ask him to give you a checkup."

"Hmmm." Hawke pondered that. What an interesting idea. "I suppose that could get...intimate."

"Exactly. Tell him you need a thorough examination. Once you have your clothes off, he won't be able to resist you. I guarantee it."

Hawke nodded. "I suppose I don't have anything to lose. I'll try it." She couldn't suppress a grin of anticipation. "After we go to the hat shop."

* * *

><p>Anders wasn't surprised when Hawke strolled into his clinic. She came in to be patched up every couple of days. It was a bit unusual that she wasn't covered in blood or bruises, though. Maybe the injuries were under her clothes. He swallowed hard at the thought.<p>

She perched on the edge of his examination table. "I need you to examine me," she said.

"Are you sick? Injured?"

She paused. "Sick."

"What are your symptoms?"

"Um. Symptoms. I have those. Should I undress?"

"What exactly is the trouble?" he asked. He tried to hide beneath a veneer of professionalism while his brain was still stuck on _undress_.

"My heart is racing. Feel it." She undid the laces at the top of her tunic.

He gingerly placed the tips of his fingers somewhere near her collarbone. _Be professional. Be professional._

She cleared her throat. "I think my heart is a bit lower down."

_You can do this. Think with your big head, Anders._ His fingers moved a fraction of an inch.

"Lower." She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart. Her skin was so soft and warm, her breast the perfect size to fit his hand. With a jolt, he realized he'd been stroking her with his thumb; a lover's gesture, not a healer's. He made to pull away, stammering an apology, but she reached up and trapped his hand, leaning into his touch.

Then everything went black.

When he came to, Hawke had done up her laces and was hopping off of his table.

"What happened?" he asked. He hadn't missed the whole thing, had he?

"Nothing happened," she said, sounding a bit disgruntled. "I had a chat with Justice."

_Shit._ "What about?"

"Not much. I should go. It sounds like you two have some issues to work out." She made her way to the door, then stopped and turned, expression softening. "I'll stop by again later." Then she was gone.

"What in the name of the Maker's hairy balls did you _do_?" Anders asked the minute the door closed.

SHE HAD NO PHYSICAL AILMENTS. THIS CHARADE WAS A DISTRACTION.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've gotten laid? Do you?"

THAT IS IRRELEVANT.

"Humans have needs. We need to eat and sleep and piss and occasionally know the touch of another person."

THE LAST OF THOSE IS NOT ESSENTIAL TO OUR CAUSE.

"Dammit, Justice!" Sometimes, he wished it were possible to punch a spirit. Of course, if he tried, he'd only end up punching himself. There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

OUR WORK REQUIRES FOCUS.

"Fine. In that case, I'm going to need some alone time."

YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS. WE HAVE WORK TO DO.

"You brought this on yourself." Spending the afternoon wanking just to spite the spirit in his head was a shallow victory, but he'd take them where he could get them.

Justice was quiet until he reached his makeshift bed.

I AM SORRY, ANDERS.

Anders sighed. "It's all right. We'll fix it." He pulled at the laces of his pants. "Now, if you don't mind..."

CARRY ON.

Anders lay back and let his mind wander. _I'll stop by again later_, she'd said. Now, _that_ was full of intriguing possibilities...


End file.
